


Wanted

by east_sunrise



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Tiny bit of Angst, insecure Mando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/east_sunrise/pseuds/east_sunrise
Summary: Inspired by the request on @cptnbvcks tumblr by @apexalpacca“Soft headcanon to soften the tidal wave of thirst. Mando fucking cries while hes showing you his face for the first time. God he just wants you to find him worthy No anon I ain't a bitch“
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 226





	Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Mando and Reader have an established relationship here, and she’s been part of the Djarin clan of two(now three) for a while. It’s up to interpretation how long Mando would wait to show her his face, and I decided that he would probably wait until after the marriage ceremony to take it off, even in the dark or with her blindfolded, so this is her first time hearing his voice without the modulator.

“Can I turn around?” The four words were packed with all of the tension and apprehension of the moment. Your hands were worrying at each other, the silver band resting heavy around your fourth finger as your thumb rubbed over the smooth metal.

“Yes. I’m not going to bite.”

His voice. Oh maker, his voice is a gorgeous baritone without the modulator, vibrating through your chest. You could listen all day to him talking, and Maker, if his voice is this kriffing gorgeous… 

You turned slowly, alarm bells going off in your head even as you did so. You were so accustomed to the rigid control of the rules, the rules that forbade you specifically from turning around and looking. Maker, such a simple action felt like a monumental feat when every instinct in your body was telling you to stop.

And then you caught sight of him, and everything else ceased to exist. Your body stopped in place, frozen by the man in front of you. His skin was tanned, wrinkled and creased from a lifetime of stress and worry. Brown hair stuck out every which way, and you had a feeling that his helmet was only part of the reason for that. On cue, a gloved hand came up and swiped through the messy waves. He had a prominent nose that curved proudly down his face. Your eyes slipped down to plush and chapped lips that looked so soft. Stars, you wanted to kiss them. You took a step forward, intent upon doing just that when you were distracted by a glistening tear track, shimmering in the synthetic light. Your gaze traced the line up to the brown eyes that seemed to hold a galaxy within them.

Your hand came up and caressed his face, thumb gently brushing away the tear. “Please don’t cry,” you whispered. You could spend the rest of time staring into his eyes. “Why are you crying?”

He gave a breathless chuckle, “Seeing you for the first time without the helmet. You’re beautiful.” 

You laughed too, pulling him tight to you in a hug that felt more real than all of the other times before. “So are you.”

“Is it enough?”

You stiffened at the question, immediately drawing back to see his face. “What?”

You could see why he had to wear the helmet all of the time. Even if the baby wasn’t his biological son, they both had eyes that could seemingly hold every complex emotion in their souls. He gestured at himself vaguely, “I’m not young anymore. I’m not as strong, or fast, or--”

“Mando--”

“I want to be worthy of you!”

You stopped, a pang in your heart as you studied him. Stars, that helmet and armor really covered everything, didn’t it? You could read a story in every line on his face. Tears were flowing freely down his face, and the anxious pain in his eyes caused tears to prick at the edge of your own vision.

“You are, Mando. You have to believe me.” You reached to cup his face again, and he allowed it. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“People... make comments. You didn’t hear, but they saw you. Talked about how beautiful you are. And-- the loudest thing in hyperspace are my own thoughts.”

You could add two and two together. “I choose you Mando. In fact--” you held up your hand, metal band shining on your finger, “--I already chose you. Your body is not what I want, though it is a nice plus.” You added with a wry grin. “But I want you. Just you. Not the Mandalorian, not the greatest bounty hunter in the parsec.” You tapped a finger against his chestplate. “You. I love you, Mando, just took me too long to say it.”

“Din.”

Your stunned silence must have been enough, because his hand came up to cover yours where it rested on his armor. “My name is Din. I’d like you to be able to use it. Only in private, of course. But--” a small grin appeared on his face, crooked and bright, but so beautifully fitting, and your chest clenched, “--my name’s Din Djarin.” 

“Din.” You tested it on your tongue, and it fit the man standing in front of you, looking at you like you were every star in the universe. It fit the man who had scooped you out of the slums of the galaxy, offering you a job and the opportunity to see the stars. It fit the man who had taught you to fight, and the man who had sworn to protect a child that he met a day before. 

Most importantly, it fit the man who had taught you that maybe it wasn’t so bad to want. And to be wanted.


End file.
